A/N: pardon the double chapter upload! hopefully that doesn't annoy anyone. was a little delayed posting the first chapter. thanks to anyone reading/reviewing/following - means a lot. always look forward to your thoughts. xo

chapter 2: fight when you feel like flying

Before Beth is able to fully comprehend the words spoken by her older and slightly-overprotective sister, Maggie's pulling her forcefully by the arm into the back corner of the mostly-empty kitchen. Lori smiles sadly at Beth as she moves to exit the room, not appearing curious at all about Maggie basically yanking her shoulder out of its joint.

"What the hell, Maggie?" Beth tugs her arm out of Maggie's grasp and squares up to her sister's face. She stares directly into Maggie's suspicious green eyes, silently imploring her to start talking and soon.

"I should be askin' you that." Maggie doesn't elaborate; instead, she crosses her arms across her chest and steps backwards, creating a small space between herself and Beth.

"Mind tellin' me what this is all about?" Beth crosses her own arms, mirroring her sister's stance.

Maggie rolls her eyes. "Annie. What she said. 'Bout ya'll stickin' around here. That's what it's about. Surprised?"

Beth sighs. "I only mentioned it to Daryl right before we got here. Just a thought. She was supposed to be spendin' the next week with him. She's just excited, Mags."

"You think it's all just okay now, don't ya?" Maggie's voice drops an octave and the edges of her words are sharp as they enter Beth's ears and travel deftly to her brain.

She stares at Maggie, blinking and scowling and shaking her head.

"Stop. Just stop actin' like you don't know what I'm talkin' about. I saw it. I see it, Beth. That look in your damn eyes. Think just because Merle's dead that it makes any of this just - suddenly okay? It doesn't. I ain't okay with it."

Beth feels her mouth pop open as she processes and begins to unfold the meaning behind her sister's words.

Maggie continues, lowering her voice further and Beth is distracted by the constant shifting in her lips as she shapes the words.

"Merle was part of the problem. But he wasn't all of it. Never has been. Yain't been 'round here, not really, for a long time. Beth, you made the right choice, leavin' when ya did. I don't want you stickin' around here, gettin' yourself confused."

"Gettin' myself confused?" The volume of Beth's voice increases slightly, because she's feeling the tiny, gentle fingers of rage pulling her skin taut at the base of her skull and the sting of irritation pumping hotly through her vessels.

"This ain't about me, Maggie. Never has been," she spits, allowing her mouth to curl into a sweet version of a sneer as she repeats her sister's words. "Think if it was that I would've willingly left? With a damn two year-old?"

"Ya left because ya had to. Because stayin' meant you were in danger. Annie was in danger. That ain't changed just because Merle's gone." Maggie's face has softened, Beth notices. Like she's feeling sorry for her. Like she's worried about her baby sister's emotional turmoil and that she's the only one who can see anything clearly in this situation.

"I'm more than capable of keepin' my daughter safe, Maggie. And besides, I don't remember you warnin' me off any time in the past two years, when Annie's come and stayed an entire week with Daryl before. So what's different now? One less Dixon, 's all. Figured that part would have you jumpin' with joy."

Maggie recoils and exhales a heavy breath in Beth's face. And Beth can't find it in her to regret anything she's said. Because she's finally learned to speak for herself.

"I'll make the decision 'bout whether or not we stay. You don't get to make that call, Maggie. She's my daughter." Beth points a finger toward the doorway of the kitchen, keeping her voice low. "And that man out there is her father. The father she gets to see maybe five or six times a year. Can you even imagine that, Maggie? Remember how close we were with daddy? Can you even imagine goin' so long without seein' him or huggin' him?"

"Daddy wasn't involved with criminals," Maggie snaps.

And Beth just barely opens her mouth to respond when Maggie's spinning on her heel and stomping out of the kitchen.

Xxx

"Find somethin' to eat?" Daryl's voice is quiet as he approaches her.

Most everyone's left Rick and Lori's house. Maggie and Beth's brother-in-law, Glenn, included. Annie's been napping for only about twenty minutes, so to give her a little extra snooze time, Beth's perched herself on the old yard swing outside the house. She's watching the sun begin its descent below the horizon and listening to the sounds of a peaceful evening in her hometown.

She nods, curling her knees into her chest.

She's tried very hard to ignore the echoes of her sister's words in her head.

"Annie's grown up since I last seen her."

Beth nods again and lifts her eyes just briefly to his as he comes around the side of the frame of the swing.

He looks at the empty spot next to her on the bench-like seat, which is swaying only slightly from the gentle rocking of Beth's body, and then shifts his eyes back to her face.

"Okay if I sit?"

She nods, silently cursing herself for feeling like her only form of communication at the moment is the movement of her damn head. But she's not sure that she could speak right now if she even wanted to.

"What happened with Jimmy, Beth?"

She almost jumps at the sound of his name. She keeps her eyes forward, away from Daryl's face.

She finds her voice eventually.

"I don't really wanna talk 'bout that. Just – just don't say anythin' to Annie. Decided to wait and tell her some other time. Maybe when we go home."

"Yeah, sorry. I just can't talk 'bout or hear one more goddamned person tryin' to talk 'bout Merle," he mumbles, and she feels his weight shift as he flexes his neck and picks at his fingers.

They're silent for a few moments, and Beth thinks about when her own life had spiraled – for the first time, at least – several years earlier, not long before she and Daryl met.

"Always thought that was so fucked up," she whispers, looking down at her own hands. "I mean, at their – ya know, my parents and Shawn – at their funeral, I just – I just 'bout lost my shit. Big time. 'Cause everyone kept comin' up to us, sayin' how wonderful they were and tellin' us stories 'bout when they were young or somethin' stupid like that. 'Bout the good old days and how cool they were. And I hated it – that they were tryin' to tell me 'bout these – I dunno, 'bout these parts of their lives that I'd missed. Knowin' that there was already so much more I was gonna miss 'cause they were gone. Felt like they were just tryin' to add a little more pain."

She sniffs the summer air, and it smells like home and childhood and days filled with climbing trees and staying up late and her momma's voice and her daddy's after-shave lotion.

"And now, when I look back, it's like – I wish I would'a listened to all those stories. 'Cause my memories are good and all, but they're so faded. And they were only 'bout the times I had with 'em or silly stories they told or things that they did. And some days it's almost like I forget they were ever even – I dunno, ever even alive or somethin'. Like they never existed. Feels wrong."

He's staring at her; she can feel it on the skin of the side of her face, in her thrumming pulse, in the way he's breathing.

"Think you guys can really stay around for a few days?" His voice is a little breathless, and Beth worries her bottom lip in between her teeth, wondering if bringing all of that - them, especially, now – was as cruel as she'd once thought those people at the funeral were.

He waits for her to answer and shoves at the ground with his feet, causing the swing to sway forcefully backwards before drifting forward in an uneven pattern. The chains clank noisily against the metal frame.

She only stays silent for a minute. Maybe less.

"Yeah. I want to. But I don't wanna – don't want us to intrude or anythin' – figure you got a lot to do. Takin' care of Merle's stuff, ya know, all that. Was thinkin' we could see if there's a room available for the week at the motel downtown. I can text ya and let ya know where we're at so ya know where Annie'll be. And when you're busy with things, I can keep her occupied."

"Ain't gonna stay at the farm?"

She removes the band holding her hair in a soft ponytail and runs a hand through the long, blonde strands, sighing gently.

"Nah. Not the first couple of days, anyhow. Annie still gets the jeepers creepers thinkin' 'bout stayin' in the house that belonged to my parents. I dunno why – she never minded much when she was little. Think she's been tryin' real hard to understand death here lately."

She lets a little of the pride she feels for their smart, beautiful daughter seep into her words.

"Think we need to – I mean, I dunno. Never mind."

The cell phone in his back pocket vibrates against the weathered wood of the seat of the swing, so he stands up and grabs for it, flipping it open while avoiding Beth's questioning face.

"What, Daryl?"

"Nothin'. Look, I gotta run. Got some cleanin' up to do. Already. Al-fuckin'-ready." He sighs and waves the phone in the air.

She swallows down the snarky remark that her brain first creates in response to the situation awaiting him. She doesn't need to ask to understand the gist of the nature of the text message he received.

She shrugs. "Okay. I'll let ya know when and where we get settled. Gonna let her sleep a li'l longer. If it's too late to get a room, we'll pro'ly end up stayin' here for the night."

He shoves the phone back into his pocket and looks at her for a minute, and she sees his eyes scanning from top to bottom, side to side.

"'Night, Beth. Thanks for bein' here. Thanks for bringin' Annie. Tell her I love her and I'll see her tomorrow?"

"'Course. Be safe."

He nods once more and she hears the screen door to the house squeak on its hinges and then hiss quietly as it shuts – only to squeak again moments later as Daryl re-emerges with Rick.

"Be right back, Beth. Gonna take Dixon to get his bike. Think Lori fell asleep starin' at Annie sleepin'." She can hear the laughter and love in Rick Grimes's voice. He's the local sheriff, so it's always been a running joke in the town that he associates with the likes of Daryl Dixon. But they've been friends for as long as Beth has known Daryl. And she's always loved Rick like family. And she admires him - admires the way that he loves his wife and kids with everything that he is and actually shows it, every single day that he lives and breathes – always has, always will.

Beth finds herself smiling up at him.

"Be safe, Rick. See ya soon."

She leans forward and dangles her legs, letting her toes claw the soft grass of the lawn.

As she sucks in a deep breath and the sweet Georgian air fills her lungs, she's transported to a night several years earlier. A night that haunts her dreams – even the good ones – and fills her nightmares until they're a balloon, one that's always, always bound to burst.

She's not wearing any shoes. She's not sure where she left them, but she's got more. She's throwing all her shit into the trunk of her car, pausing every few minutes to swipe angrily at the tears rolling down her cheeks. She feels the gravel of the shitty road biting into her feet, and she feels a sudden, desperate urge to push all of her weight into her legs, to dig her feet into the road so that the jagged edges can draw her blood and form scars that she'll never forget. So she remembers.

Daryl's there. He's standing on the front porch of the house he once shared with his older brother. Annie's screaming in his arms and flailing her own around to express what her words can't yet.

She's almost staggering as she makes her way up the short concrete walk to reach him. No, not him. Her.

"You're just letting him fuck everythin' up," she whispers harshly into his pained face.

He moves Annie to his hip and she's calmed down some. Much more so than Beth has.

"All I asked was for a li'l time. Let me help him. That's it. Ain't sayin' you gotta go. Don't want ya to, Beth."

She snorts. "How much time, Daryl? You been helpin' him for weeks now. Stayin' over here, spendin' all your free time with him 'stead of with us. And I've been calm 'bout it. Been bringin' your damn daughter over here – to this hell-hole – so you can at least see her. But I ain't doin' that anymore – ain't bringin' her here."

She's pissed. Beyond. Can't see straight. She needs him. Needs him and needs him to stop this, whatever it is. Needs him to want to stop it, because it can't be good, not with what she's seen tonight.

"That's fine, Beth. I can't control what goes on here – ya know that. Go back home, to the apartment. Told him I can't be stayin' over here like this no more. Payin' rent at a place I'm just barely sleepin' at. Can't fuckin' figure out what the fuck I should be doin'. He's my brother."

Beth sighs. She wasn't upset with Daryl helping his brother out, regardless of her feelings towards the man - which, even after being with Daryl (and, therefore, knowing or at least knowing of Merle) for the last three years, she still couldn't describe with any version of certainty. She hasn't asked any questions – she trusts Daryl with her life. With her child's life. But when she walked into that house a few hours ago, her trust in him was compromised. Maybe not her trust in him necessarily. But her trust in people. And it's not because of anything he was doing, but because of what others were doing around him. What they were doing with piles of money and lines of white powder and needles and syringes and spoons filled with amber-colored liquid that they held loosely over the burning flames of lighters and candles and the ranges of the stove and guns and knives and dried blood under their fingernails. And now she has so many questions. She doesn't know if she wants any answers.

"Yes, Daryl, I know he's your brother. Told ya time and time again - I get it. If it were Maggie, I'd help her in any way that I could, I'd do anythin' she wanted - as long as it didn't put you or Annie in danger. That's the one condition. Only one that should matter to either of us."

She lifts a hand and brushes the strands of his bangs to the side so that his eyes are visible – and they're little glowing blue lanterns that have seen every piece of her, inside and out. She lets her hand slide down the side of his face and onto the soft, plump cheek of their now-sleeping daughter.

"Brothers, sisters, parents – not that we have any – but, still, if we did. They're all secondary to this. To us."

He bends forward carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping one year-old still hiked on his hip, and presses his lips – and they're hard and gentle and soft and possessive, all at once – to hers.

"Wouldn't never do anythin' to risk either of you. Or put ya in danger. Promise you. I love you. Come on." He steps forward, locking his fingers tightly with Beth's. "Let's go home. Wanna feel you next to me all night."

And at this point, in her dreams and nightmares and deepest fears and most secret wishes, she begs herself to keep her mouth shut. To walk with her boyfriend, with her child, in silence. But if nothing else, she's reliable – in all dimensions of reality.

"I hate him sometimes, Daryl," she whispers, and she's almost ashamed as she says it. But she doesn't lie, not to him. "Most the time. And I've never really hated anyone. 'Cept maybe the people responsible for momma and daddy and Shawn. But Merle - only love I got for the man is 'cause he's your brother. 'Cause he practically raised ya. Other than that, he's just another junkie. Even if ya don't wanna see it. Whole damn world would pro'ly be better off without him."

She slips her feet into her sandals and takes a few deep, deliberate breaths before returning to the warmth of the house behind her.